City Sights to Series

Although groggy and tired from the evening, it was up early and out the door to a cafe for a coffee (are you surprised?) croissant, butter, jam and orange juice before hitting the cobblestones for another day in the city. Refreshed and two cups later with people watching, the city begins to awake and show its colors to the world. a short subway ride to the Catacombs, the morning venue.

Waiting for the it to open, a leisurely stroll in the park, watching the boulee (bowling) teams prepare for the day and seeing the dogs and people begin their morning routines. As the musee opens, I was completely unaware of the darkness and dank environment I was about to enter.

After 380 steps down to the long, dark corridors marking the numbered graves of the 16-17 and 18th century victims, I was stunned. there graves were mere numbers and a "J" marked on the tombs were that of families, persons and populace of France- primarily of Paris proper.The catacombs web and spoke beneath the living city but still vie for their place within the historical construct of time. Bones and skulls are stacked from floor to ceiling revealing thousands upon thousands of remains forming a framework of a graveyard lost in the shadows below the streets and boulevards of Modern Paris.

The lights of this city have only dimmed for these souls lost, as the remains of 6 million rest here and call to each who pass through their resting place. The Catacombs extend for miles and the bones and skulls of the "innocents" removed from their above ground cemeteries find their place in the darkened home of this tomb. Hugo, Rousseau, Camus and others mark the "le Morte" of the deaths in simplistic memorials to generations of once thriving Medieval and Renaissance humankind. Skull and crossbones marking indicate your direction as you pass the neatly stacked rows of limbs, skill and torso bones. Nearing the end of the winding pathway, is the Arch opening to a slab centered within the room like an altar. It was, however, for a darker purpose- it was the place used for lethal injection and major surgeries underground. It is a frightening reminder of the primeval, primordial mankind preceding the now tourist venue.

I had forgotten the" what goes down must come up theory" thus, those 300 plus steps are a challenge. After many breathing stops, there lies a bench at the top to "catch your breath". Inhaling is NOT an option- it is an essential stop and wheeze stop before you are checked upon exiting. "Bones as souvenirs have been taken," explains the guard. Needless to say, i am shocked. Who? and WHY? cross my mind. Isn't it enough that the tomb conjures the most somber memorial, yet someone wishes to make parts of it s "souvenir"? Humans oftentimes confuse me in matters such as these.

Emerging into the light is blinding and takes a moment to comprehend before leaving this place of introspection. but, after coffee (smile) and a bit of a rest, the ile St. Louis beckons.

All of the islands are connected by an intricate maze of bridges and Ile St. Louis is no different. Upon crossing, immediately to the right is my favorite restaurant for lunch with the most flavorful and inexpensive soup l'onion gratinee and croque monsieur/madame- "La Chaumiere en L'ile. A crowd has gathered, so we stood watching as a man approached. " May I have a light?" was his query. I obliged and as he walked to the cafe, I realized that filming of some sort was taking place at our favorite cafe. We sat across the street after buying Berthillon ice cream (the best in France) and had a coffee (YES!) and merely watched the process of shooting. our waiter informed us that the series "Panama" was being filmed today and that we had become part of the background due to our placement at the corner table across the street. Supposedly it is a mystery/thriller/action series shot in Paris. I am a star!! Ok, Ok. I stumbled on it, was an unwitting extra, and have no clue as to what is happening in the scenes. But does it matter? I will be part of the fabric of evening french television viewing.

Abandon lunch for now and we will find something on the streets as we move. We walk from one end of the Ile to the other and find that the point in the middle of the Seine, near the Pont Neuf Bridge, is the western point of the ile. A beautiful park, statuary and walking path lends itself to lovers, picnickers and not often, tourists. It is the idyllic spot for a respite from the bustling city which surrounds you- all while standing in the middle of the Seine. A wonderful find!

The evening finds us tired yet unwilling to relent. We want to the smallest street in Pairs, the Quarat, then to il de la Cite across the bridge of lights. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance as we slowly walk the bridge of the Seine at night with the wind gusting into your faes which invigorates us temporarily. The lightening behind Notre Dame is flashing as it stands at the end of the bridge in the distance. Notre Dame now looks as if it is dressed for the evening ball. The light has gone except for the floodlights, and it stands in this muted haze that shine from its base to the spires. Truly a magnificent sight as I head to the side entrance for a unique concert.

The Gregorian Chant echoes in the domes and the gothic space as if it is a lullaby of sound. The 10 men and 4 women in blue, form the tableau's of the hours of Christ's life. The reddening dome, the black cross, the white statue of Mary holding the child behind the altar, turn while and glistens across the cross of gold above. A contrast to the stained glass and upper balcony arched columns to the top of the church. Truly a lighting marvel. Although tired, I was inspired to know more- see more- experience more. The lull of the sounds and the cold interiors of the cathedral take one back to thoughts of "What was it really like?" I can only speculate and take my mind to that place...